


We'll Get Through This (Ticcimask) (Apocalypse AU)

by LadderPattern



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Marble Hornets
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Apocalypse, Boredom, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Gay, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mild Gore, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24993895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadderPattern/pseuds/LadderPattern
Summary: Look, bruh. I tried.Peaceful. That's was everyone would call their neighborhood. Well, almost everyone. Till one day, people are transforming into messed up creatures, screaming with lost voices and biting anyone they get their hands on. Blood is being spilled and brains are getting squashed.This story focuses mainly on two men trying their best to survive in their states. One day, the younger, hazel eyed man is travelling from his home state, Colorado, to Alabama. It wasn't just the temperature change that surprised him, it was the life there.But why did he have to travel there?"People are dying. It's only the dead in this state. Go. Go, you can't stay here." he's ushered out of his hiding spot. "Make your way down. I'll get someone to drive you. They'll look after you, protect you." The old, grey haired man said. He'd die soon, the group's second leader.Toby Rogers, a 20 year old man with barely any fighting experience, is stuck on his own after the death of someone he quickly became friends with. He has to venture out. All the way to Tuscaloosa. There he meets our second favourite character, yay!They have their ups and downs. Though, they'll survive.Together.
Relationships: Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticci Toby & Timothy "Tim" Wright | Masky, Tobias Erin "Toby" Rogers | Ticcy Toby/Masky (Creepypasta)
Kudos: 19





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on AO3 so forgive me if this is shitty.

A Dramatic Prologue

As I jolted up into a sitting position, I was gasping. My back was wet and so was my shirt. All I could hear was my rapid heartbeat, hammering against my ribcage. Damn it. Another nightmare.  
I stood up, slowly due to how dizzy I was suddenly feeling. I steadied myself with a hand on my small nightstand, holding several half empty water bottles. Waking up in a cold sweat was never nice. Not to me at least.  
I not-so-speedily changed into another shirt, tossing the other one aside. It lands in a pile of other dirty clothes that I had yet to wash and fold once more. Laundry was something else I hated. Didn’t we all? If only clothes never smelled, never had to be washed. Like us. What if we self cleaned like machines?  
“You lazy pile of dirt…” I mumble to no-one in particular. Maybe except myself.  
My thoughts and mind go blank when I hear banging at the door. It’s 4am, the only person who knocks on my door is the mailman.  
I was friends with him you could say. Everyday it was the same thing in the same white envelope. Bills. Bills. More bills. I had yet to pay them.  
It would sound selfish if I said I didn’t care about them and only myself and current state, I know, but it’s true.  
Again, knocking- no, it’s a loud banging, pulls me from my thoughts again.  
“Just get the door and tell ‘em to leave.” I grumble, running a hand through the matte and messy black hair on my head. As best as I can, I smooth it down, fixed my pajama pants and sighed. I left my room, trying my best not to trudge to the front door.  
“Coming!” I shout, hearing the third round of banging. It confuses me. The person is banging on my door, but not screaming at me to open it?  
My hand twists the cold, brass doorknob and I open it.  
“Hel– Christ!” something pushes at my chest, I’m thrown off balance, and land hard on my ass.  
It claws at my upper arms, nearly ripping the fabric of my shirt.  
Now, getting a rip in my shirt is the last of my worries. I needed to get this person off of me.  
But when I started to struggle and went to grab their face, I found out it wasn’t a person.  
Their face is bumpy, something is stabbing into my palm. Was this bone?  
“Grrrraahhh!!” it groaned, eyes flicking up to look at me. It seemed to make a gurgling sound while it groaned and moaned in its mindless state. My eyes went wider by the second. I needed to hit them, but it couldn’t be with my hands.  
What kind of sick joke is this?  
Grabbing the nearest thing, which I found out was a shard of glass from a broken vase, I stabbed them in the temple.  
They cried out again, clawing my arms. I yelled at them to get the hell away from me, but life was fading from their eyes.  
They turned a sickly green color, blue eyes rolling up and tongue drooping like a panting dog. I let go of the shard, letting it stay in that person’s head. Blood started to collect on my hand. It wasn’t a crimson red.  
It was orange. Bright, glowing orange.  
“W-what the fuck?” I mutter. I couldn’t process any of this quick enough.

\-----------------------

“Th-this c-c-a-an’t be r-real.” I whisper, eyes flicking from the TV to the clock on the wall.  
A zombie apocalypse was always cool in movies but in real life? I think I just pissed myself.  
Again, I turn my attention away from the TV, walking over to a calendar and looking at the bookmarked and current month.  
Please let it be April 1st. I quietly whined, seeing as it was December 9th. Snow was on the ground, and New Year’s was approaching.  
“Now, uh, Scott has gotten a very detailed description of these what scientists and civilians are calling “Zombies”.” I turn my head and listen intently to the woman speaking.  
“Infected people will have very pale green skin and blue eyes, sometimes brown or light yellow. Their skin is deteriorated and their blood is not red, but bright orange. They are stronger and smarter than they appear. Approach with caution but if you must. It’s best to stay away, though. Back to you, Jill.”  
Just your typical zombie. Nothing to worry about. While I decided to grab my largest book bag and start stuffing supplies in it, I listened to the news reporters.  
“Hello there, Scott Hythin here, we have already classified several of these undead monsters into different categories. The first one can be called a ‘Grabber’ or ‘Swinger’. Now, this means the obvious. They swing their arms as they walk to grab or touch anything around them. Same thing, different name. Next is the ‘Seeker’. They are mostly silent and prefer to sneak up on their victims. The third is called a…uh, ‘Pacer’. The most dangerous. They run fast, they’re quiet, strong, resilient and have amazing vision. We are all trying to find a cure, before it all goes to murder and mayhem. Thank you, now to Johnath– AHH-!”  
Static is heard and my eyes dart to the television. What happened? I drop my bag and go over to it.  
Every channel is static or is having ‘Technical Difficulties’.  
I shake my head, the worry mostly leaving my mind. Now was no time to be scared.  
Food, plenty of extra clothes, one or two reminders of my family, and two hatchets are grabbed.  
Now was no time to be scared.


	2. Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we focus on Toby and Tim preparing for their new life ahead of them and plenty of other civilians. While they are doing different things, they just want to survive in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHORT CHAPTER AND ANY CHARACTER I ADD IS NOT AN OC. I dislike adding them in stories..unless they die and weren't really important. Sorry!

Preparation 

Ｔｏｂｙ

Five hours. That’s how long it took for channels to come back. I couldn’t rely on a radio at the moment, seeing as I didn’t have one.  
That one thought brought several childhood memories back. The happy ones, at least.  
‘Mommy, mommy. I want that one!’ I remember excitedly pointing to the toy on the shelf. She sighed, smiling tiredly at me. That day, I had been more hyper than usual. I believe it was because Lyra made sure I had a good night’s rest the day before. A small chuckle and a smile made its way to my lips, staying there for a while.  
I remember not getting it. Though, I didn’t cry or whine about it as much as I thought. All child me did was hang my head for a few seconds and pout. My tiny hand still held my mother’s soft hand, clinging onto it.  
Mom. Her hands were soft from whatever cream she used, but rough from the hard work she did. Bags and crows feet hung under her hazel eyes. When she smiled, there were wrinkles by her mouth.  
She would tickle my nose, telling me I had my father’s nose. When it was all happy, they playfully argued about my features. My mother cupped my cheeks, explaining how “handsome” I looked. My father said I looked more like my “gorgeous mother”. In my opinion, I look more like my mother.  
My jawline wasn’t exactly the sharpest or most defined, my nose wasn’t sharp or pointed. Instead, those features were soft and round. Apparently my eyes were “doe like”. My lips were fuller to some. I never saw these things, though. Why was my appearance so important? I’d never get a job, finish school properly, or make any friends.  
It didn’t matter.  
Hence why my hair was always disheveled, and why my eyes always looked tired. My lips are down turned in a soft frown and my hands are bandaged.  
“Bandages…” my own raspy whisper made me jump. I looked down at my hand. Half of my nail from my pointer finger had been chewed off, letting blood slide down my fingers and dry into a sticky trail. My other hand still held a pair of freshly washed blue jeans in them. They’re stuffed into my probably oversized book bag, along with the other clothes and supplies it held. Whilst I cleaned off my other hand, I counted the rolls of bandages I had.  
3 plus a few in a med kit I had underneath the kitchen sink.  
I got to my feet and sighed, walking down the steps, carefully. I made my way to the kitchen and crouch, praying I don’t fall backwards on to my butt as I search through the cleaning products. Once I retrieved it, I went back to my room and continued packing.  
Outside was surprisingly quiet. I did hear groaning but it was cut off within seconds. It was possibly ended by the zombies being shot since I did hear a few gunshots echo through the streets.  
I zipped up my bag, fixed my hood and started to walk through the house that only held me.  
‘I hate it here’, I thought, looking around.  
The only “safe spot” I had was my room.  
Even that wasn’t my safe place.  
Saying goodbye was easier than I thought it would be. Packing was simple. Anything I found useful or valuable was packed.  
It was quiet for a few seconds. I looked outside. Curious on why there was no noise. Then, yelling got louder and louder. My ears rang.  
The only thing I heard was a “watch out!” from a woman, standing in front of my window.  
“Wh–Ah!” I stepped back, hearing a loud crash and then seeing the glass shatter all over the floor. It rains down and I instinctively cover my head with my hands.  
Something bright starts coming into view as well. I start backing away. Hesitantly, I lift my head.  
Fire. Beautiful, beautiful fire. The flames are surrounding my window and catching on the carpet of my bedroom. It’s spreading, quickly.  
“Shoot, come on, kiddo!” My arm is all of a sudden grabbed. I hook my arm onto theirs and take my things with my other hand as I’m dragged out of the burning house.  
Since I had no idea what was happening, question after question came spewing out of my mouth as we ran, far. I couldn’t catch myself nor stop the consistent flow of questions.  
Instead of getting a reply to them, we’re running faster and faster. My backpack hadn’t even been slung over my shoulders yet, and I felt like an old woman carrying a purse with rocks in it.  
Finally, when I catch a glimpse of them I see that they’re quite an ordinary looking person. Light brown hair with navy blue eyes. Their clothes are already torn and mainly ruined, but I could still make out a word on it. “Metallica” it was. I heard it was a band. Honestly, I never really listened to music.  
Being pulled from my thoughts, they tilt my head in several directions and roll up my sleeve. Those which I quickly roll down and slap their hand away.  
“You aren’t bitten. Are you, kid?” she asks. Her voice is soft and feminine, making me feel almost guilty for mistaking her for male.  
“No,” I reply blankly as my eyes scan the place I was brought to. It’s the edge of a forest.  
She bites her lip anxiously, watching me carefully. I didn’t exactly trust her either, so I kept my distance.  
“You have a weapon, correct? Do you have a certain place to go to?”  
To respond, I merely shrug.  
“Y-yeah…hatchets..t-two of em.” I say. She had a weapon too. It wasn’t hidden. Instead, the basic m19 was in her hand.  
She wore baggy, camouflage cargo pants with plenty of pockets. Her shoe of choice was a pair of matte black boots. She was of course covered in a bright orange substance. Zombie blood.  
“Who are you?” I ask, reaching for a hatchet on my backpack.  
She raised her hands in surrender, or a way of saying “I’m not here to hurt you”.  
“My name is Penny, and I have a question for you.”  
I lean forward, deciding to cross my arms and listen.  
The question was an offer. An offer to join a “clan” called the Celtic Knights. In my honest opinion, it sounded like an emo teenager creating an online username.  
I pause, looking at her.  
How do I make this decision? Should I turn my back and leave to live on my own? Or have a group of people to survive with?  
The little voice in my head whispered for me to choose the first option. I’ll rot faster that way. I wouldn’t go through this.  
Though, I didn’t listen. Instead I lift my head and nod, almost confidently.  
“Yeah. I’ll join.” I force a small, shy smile.  
Penny grins. I’m told to follow her.  
As we walked back to where I would now “live”, she explained what they were already going through.  
As soon as I got there, I had to introduce myself, get fed, and go out on patrol or to collect supplies.  
Live was already going to shit. The house I always lived in was set on fire and I had to flee. Now here I am, joining a so-called clan to kill zombies and collect supplies for their own use.

Ｔｉｍｏｔｈｙ

I grabbed the bag, zipping it up since I finished putting my necessities in it. Luckily I still had my old, giant book bag from college. It would come in handy due to how much space I still had in it.  
Currently, my weapon would be a thick, lead pipe. I didn’t have any firearms, since I didn’t trust myself around one of them. Nor did I know how to use it.  
Almost immediately after that thought comes another one.  
‘Kralie’  
My dead friends’ last name.  
I know who I had to go find. I could retrieve his gun and then search for another specific person.  
I just prayed that I wouldn’t die doing such a simple thing.


	3. Something Smells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby defends himself and goes exploring.  
> Tim ventures off to his friend's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SU/C/DE TRIGGER WARNING

Toby

I trudged through the mud, since it had just rained and I didn’t think to carry boots, my sneakers were collecting mud and becoming more and more ruined as we walked.  
Penny led me through the trail I was supposed to trek through and back whenever I had to go on patrol. So far, it was boring.  
Animals had retreated back into their hiding spots, or safe places, and other people were nowhere to be seen. It made me groan, kicking the dirt.  
Penny hisses, glaring at me, “Watch it!” she warns. I took a step back from her, now worried she would snap at me again. Rolling my eyes, a quiet apology is given. It’s the second time that’s happened.  
A moment of silence goes by and she’s back to explaining everything I need to hear.   
Then, we hear it.  
Zombies.  
“RAWWWGGHR!!!” they wail. Penny and I are quick on our feet; grabbing our weapons and fighting as soon as they get close enough.  
I heard Penny’s gunshots (which made my ears ring and even disoriented me for a few seconds) and then more groans dying out. She’s killed one or two zombies.  
My hatchets are in my hands, held tightly. As soon as the blade came in contact with the already cracked skull of the creature, adrenaline was rushing through me.  
Pulling the hatchet out of its head, I ram the other into its throat. There’s no chance for it to cry out. Afterwards, it falls to the floor, headless.  
“Toby!” Penny called suddenly. I turn around only to be pushed by the shoulders. I land on my bottom, the thing falling on top of me. With all my strength, I kick it off and we’re in a wrestle.  
It wasn’t even a second later I saw its head getting blown off in front of my face. Orange liquid and brain matter is splattering everywhere, including on me. Yuck.  
Penny helps me get back on my feet, and we kept our weapons out. Just in case.  
“C’mon. Let’s head to the shelter!” She gestures for me to follow her. We go through a shortcut, which meant a lot of jumping, sliding, and running.  
The woman was a lot more agile than I thought she was. While her build was muscular, she had a face that made her look fragile. Maybe it was her doe eyes and round nose.  
She was attractive, but not my type.  
Hey, you’re going to die. Now’s not the time to look for a girlfriend. Dip shit.  
“Shut up,” I hiss and shake my head. We continue running for a good three minutes.  
Finally, we stop. We’re in a town, a forest far behind us. I’m panting with my hands on my knees, huffing every few seconds.  
Penny speaks up before me, “We’re here,” she stands up straight, brushes strands of hair back, and points to a large, white house.  
After taking in another breath of air I look up.  
I’m in awe, the house looks new, with clean cement stairs and a metal railing by it. The large two by four windows are clean and shiny. Perhaps the area wasn’t explored yet, wasn’t found. That would explain it.  
This would be the place to hide in if it was unsafe to travel back? I don’t plan on complaining.  
To snap me out of my thoughts, she puts a hand on my shoulder and guides me over to the door. Twisting the brass knob, the door opens with ease.  
I feel rude, as if I should take off my dirty shoes before entering.  
Penny doesn’t give me time to go through with my actions, though, as she brings me inside to look around. I’m quick to drop my hatchets at the door and go examine the place.  
The first thing I go for is the kitchen. There was a strong, musty smell. The smell of cardboard slowly wafted into my nose and my face scrunched up. I can’t cover my nose, seeing as there’s the dried liquid on my hand from a previous fight with monsters.  
A white mug catches my eye. There’s something in it, like a cupcake liner.  
Or…a coffee filter? With ground coffee in it. Odd. I never knew the smell of expired coffee until now.  
She showed me a few other rooms. Bedroom, bathrooms, and the kitchen, which I had already looked through. The people that owned this house must’ve had a good income. Not quite rich, but enough to afford such a nice place.  
“You seem to like it, kiddo,” she chuckles and lightly punches my arm.  
“It’s cool,” I whisper, still looking around. Once I’m done she tells me it’s time to leave, then I could meet everyone else in the group they made.  
We pack up our things and head out, making sure to take the key belonging to this place, after.  
• • • • • • •   
Tim  
This fucking sucks. Everything did. Nothing was fine.  
I don’t care if I trudged or lazily walked. I needed to go to his house to steal his gun. That was a weapon, a firearm, I never trusted myself around.  
Using one wasn’t a problem really, that was something I was capable of.  
A list was made. It was of things I had to do.  
The list was short and simple. Two things on it.  
And one objective was complete, seeing as the house was coming up.  
Going over to it, I swing open the door and twist the knob. Luckily, it opens. No need to break a window. The place is empty, lonely and soundless.  
Because the owner was dead. All the furniture was still there, jackets and shoes were laying around messily. That’s not why I was here. Not to clean up his messes anymore.  
I went to the bedroom, searching the drawers and dressers.  
“Damn it!” I curse. It’s not here. Where, where, where!?  
Who was the last person that had it? Who?!  
“Brian!” I jump up, quickly running out of the house without another thought.  
Brian has the gun. Brian had it. If Alex didn’t. I remember now.  
While I was running, I came across the zombies. Some growled and gurgled, swinging their arms around. Others moped around like people on a lazy Monday morning.  
Luckily, they didn’t come for me. Even though I took no precaution and was careless about my running, I didn’t get into any scuffles. Phew.  
The trees around me were getting denser and denser. He lived near a forest. Unfortunately he had to move.  
More than a few minutes go by. It’s tiring to run for this long. Especially if you’re not the healthiest. What keeps me going is Brian. He’s alive.  
That fall couldn’t have killed him. Just knock him out.  
God, it feels like it happened yesterday. When he fell. My best friend, almost ending his life right then and there.  
All because of me and my stupid decisions.  
Now is no time for self-loathing. I remind myself.  
Coming to a full stop, I almost fall over. Being out of breath was something no one liked. That was for sure.  
Opening the door was a challenge. It wasn’t unlocked, so maybe he was out. Or home, not expecting visitors.  
Like usual, I knock the door and wait. Wait…wait…  
No answer.  
“Brian?” I call, hoping he could hear.  
Jiggling the doorknob, I frown, “C’mon, Brian. Open the door!”  
No answer. Is he not home?  
Okay, try the door.  
No, that’s breaking and entering.  
Ignoring the small argument I’m having with myself, I go over to a window.  
It’s barely lifted. My fingers can somewhat slip through and lift the sill.  
Saying “fuck it” and diving through, I jump through the window.  
My head hits the floor and I tumble. Right, there was a couch underneath. My body is in pain for a moment. Then I’m allowed to stand. An odd stench hits my nose. Like…rotting meat?  
Looking around, he doesn’t seem to be home. What could it be?  
His shoes are there, though.  
Where could he be?  
“Brian, come on! Is this a joke!?” I yell, looking around rapidly.  
Soon, I find out he’s here. Nothing is how I expected. His body was sprawled out in a pool of blood. His own, most likely.  
“Brian…?” whispering his name doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t groan or look up to smile at me. Not to tell me “just kidding! Did I scare ya, Tim?”  
The weapon I had been looking for previously laid next to him.   
My knees buckle at the sight and I fall. This couldn’t be real. Was I hallucinating again?  
“Brian,” the name is nothing more than a whimper.  
It slowly grows louder and louder. I grasp his sleeve and shake him, “Brian!”  
“Brian, please, wake up! Don’t do this!” I wail. This can’t be happening. It can’t be. No, no, no!  
Unfortunately, my eyes aren’t deceiving me. There’s a entry hole right by his bloodied, torn ear. The blood is dried up. The skin is sticky with fresh blood. His hair is matted and knotted. The tears are quick to spill over. I sat on my knees, gripping onto the arm of my friend. His hazel eyes were lifeless and cold now. The stench was strong. It was him.  
He was dead, and there was no reversing it. I clutched his sleeve, like a scared child.  
My friend,


	4. Happy holidays!!

Merry christmas guys! I'll be working on a chapter today, it might not come out today, but I'll try to get it out before the next year.

Oh, and if you don't celebrate Christmas, happy holidays instead (:


	5. Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toby gets some sleep.  
> Tim tries to get some sleep  
> And Brian definitely gets some rest too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for typos n grammatical errors this shall be edited later >°>

(Toby)

The walk back was nothing special. Neither of us saw any of those disgusting creatures either. It was starting to get cold, according to Penny. Maybe it’d snow. Snow was only exciting when your life wasn’t in danger. That meant no one was looking forward to it.  
The wind picked up, leaves falling from their branches to be swept away. They land in murky puddles.  
|  
|  
|  
|  
As soon as we got to the camp, people were there to greet us. Or, her more like it. Mostly because I was a stranger to them. No one paid attention to me. Not that I was complaining.  
My mind was elsewhere, again, since we weren’t doing anything important. My fingers are twirling the key, making them rattle and jingle every so often.  
When I feel a hand on my shoulder, my elbow jerks and I hear a grunt. At least that got my attention.  
“Whoops,” I mutter, looking over at the woman. She doesn’t say anything in return, just glaring at me. I don’t say anything, not even giving an apology.  
/Someones been getting on their friends nerves/  
Again, I jingled the keys. They’re snatched away from my hand. It’s not by Penny, though. Another person! How surprising.  
That’s when I start paying attention again.  
She introduced herself, “Hi, I’m May.”  
/Is there an April and June, too?/  
In return I wave to her, awkwardly smiling. The smile had come from the comment my thoughts had made. Nice going Toby, nice.  
Like Penny, May’s appearance is simple. With tied back brown hair and brown eyes, she looks like a normal civilian.  
/Unlike you/  
May is soft spoken, but she looks tough. Everyone here had to be.  
Penny cuts in, clearing her throat, “This is our medic, May.”  
Hearing her name twice, it would be easy to remember. We greet each other and move on. The others I meet aren’t so important.  
Until this one particular guy…or old man I should say. He was old, grey hair on his head and wrinkles on his face. He wasn’t hideous, just old.  
“Someone new?” he turns to someone. They exchange words. The person gestures to me and the woman wearing a Metallica shirt after.  
He smiles, facing us again.  
“Your name, Toby?” He asks, smiling. The smile lines deepen by his mouth. I nod and we shake hands. His is thin and almost feels frail, like if I squeezed, he’d yell.  
I’m welcomed by all after this encounter. I’ll make a good addition to this place, according to him. Soon I’m told his name is Michael.  
While talking and interacting with the other members, I learn he’s important; the group’s second leader. So who was the first?  
I had my doubts that it was Penny, but also believed it was. Why was she so special to be the first leader? Perhaps I was getting too nosy.  
Almost as if on cue, she tells me something. Again, nothing special. I’ll be given another tour. This time of the place. Guess I’ll be staying here with everyone else.  
Bedrooms among bedrooms, small kitchens and bathrooms, and a large lobby with a still working TV. Perhaps it was a hotel before the world went to crap. The “apocalypse” had just started today, or now yesterday. Meaning; everything was still in tip top shape.  
I stifled a yawn as I looked around the large lobby, searching for a clock. It was two in the morning. Already?  
“Why don’t ya turn in for the night?” May says, not making the mistake of nudging me again. Upon hearing her offer, I nod. She lets me leave and I make my way to my room. It’s spacious and clean.  
The bed is neatly made, with the blankets tucked into the sides. The pillows are fluffed and the bed looks comfy in general. After taking off the backpack, dropping my hatchets and taking off my shoes, nothing could stop me from sleeping. Hoping into bed, I nearly sunk. It was as soft as it looked.  
Burying my head into the pillow and shutting my eyes, it still took a while to fall asleep, but I got there.  
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°  
(Tim)

While I don’t know how long it’s been, I just know it’s been more than an hour. Or three. Still, I sat here. The blood had long stopped and his eyes had closed. The smile on his face was gone, and so was the color. Blood on my hands made me seem like the culprit.  
What was someone supposed to do when they found their friend, dead, on their kitchen floor? Laying in a pool of their own dried blood. The odor was getting overwhelming. Nice to know what the corpse, /of your own friend/ smelled like.  
Dragging him out and burying him was all I could think of. Leaving him here to rot was not, or ever, going to be an option.  
Picking myself up from the floor, I looked down at Brian, sniffling. Seeing him like this hurt terribly. He really didn’t want to live through this, huh? After all he’s been through, this is what he couldn’t handle.  
Even with tears blurring my vision, I leaned down to pick him up. Lifting him made me cringe. Having to carry your friend to their grave was something I never imagined doing twice.  
Slinging his arm over my shoulder, I dragged him out of the place. Through the front door after unlocking it.  
Gently placing him down somewhere, I looked for a shovel.

|  
|  
|  
|

After whispering my condolences to him, I turned around and pat my eyes. I still remembered Brian being happy and laughing all the time. After classes we’d go somewhere to eat or hang out. Even if Alex hated me for taking him elsewhere when he was supposed to be rehearsing lines.  
There was no time to make it any fancier. Small flowers planted in the ground. Yellow. I always assumed that was his favorite color. I never asked. It wasn’t important. I suppose now it was. There were so many things I never asked him, things we wanted to do while still friends, but now it’s never going to happen.  
I deciding that this wouldn’t get me anywhere. Even though I wanted to cry and call for him again, mourning wouldn’t do any good. Heading back inside, I went to find the gun. It laid by the blood splotches on the floor. Where he used to be.  
Taking the gun and making my way back home wasn’t much of a challenge. None of the infected heard me walk by, nor see.  
Once I put down the firearm and barricaded my door again, I didn’t do much. Nothing interesting.  
Something felt…off. While I couldn’t specifically name it, I knew it wasn’t good. It felt like something was weighing me down. Lethargic, depressed, hollow?  
It was all hitting me like a stack of bricks. And I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger? hate? Sadness? I felt guilty and it showed. Something was screaming at me in my head that it was my fault. All my fault.  
Though, I went to bed to try and sleep it off. Even with images of Brian’s dead body still in my mind.


End file.
